Reflections on Two Worlds
by Zathara001
Summary: In the aftermath of "Crisis on Earth-X," Oliver attends Martin Stein's funeral.


Much like "Ringing in the New Year," this is a sort of placeholder fic while I work on the next longer story (and a few others that are invading my brain) in this series. It takes place after "Crisis on Earth-X" and is part of my "Of Two Worlds" series - which you don't have to read to make sense of this, but you do need to know that in this series, Oliver and Kara are married.

As always, all rights in this work are given to DC/CW, Berlanti, et al.

# # # # #

In keeping with a funeral, the skies were cloudy - not completely overcast, but enough to remind everyone attending that, although they'd achieved victory in their fight, this victory was tainted by the death of a teammate.

Not just any teammate, either, Oliver Queen thought, but one of the best: Martin Stein, whose ethics had never wavered, whose experience and wisdom had tempered the Legends, who had assisted the Flash on several occasions, and whom Oliver wished he had known better.

From his vantage point several hundred yards away from where Martin Stein was being laid to rest, Oliver Queen watched the service, silently grieving the loss of a man he barely knew.

The slightest whoosh of air signaled the arrival of his wife, Kara Zor-El Danvers Queen, also called Supergirl. For a moment, she stood with him in silence. He knew it wouldn't be long before she spoke.

"You should be there," Kara said quietly, "with Sara and Barry and the others."

"No," Oliver replied, unconsciously sliding an arm around her shoulders. "No, I shouldn't."

"Why not?" From her, the question was just a question, not laced with accusation or recrimination.

That was fine - he had accusations and recriminations enough for the both of them. Those accusations and recriminations filled his voice with loathing when he responded.

"How can I face Martin Stein's wife and daughter when I'm the reason he's dead?"

"How can you say that, Oliver?" Kara demanded, and not for the first time, he was grateful for her instinctive leap to his defense.

Not that it was warranted, this time.

"How can I not?" Oliver turned to face her, both ashamed and humbled by the simple trust in her expression. "I had a chance to kill Overgirl right at the start. I didn't take it because she was you, and because I didn't, Martin Stein died."

"You don't know that, Oliver," Kara said.

He blew out what might have been a laugh, or maybe a disdainful snort. "Don't I? She was _you._ She looked like you, sounded like you… and because she was you, I didn't take the kill shot."

But he'd had no trouble killing the man who was, for all intents and purposes, himself. Oliver chose not to dwell on that particular fact.

"I mean," Kara said patiently but firmly, "that you don't know Professor Stein would have lived if you had taken the shot. Things would have been different, yes, but you don't know - you _can't_ know - whether the difference means that he would have lived. For all you know, he might still have died. Or Sara, or Barry, or Jax … or you. Or me."

Her words made logical sense. Oliver knew that. But they didn't touch the core of his emotion.

"Hey." Kara grabbed his chin, and he went with the movement as she turned his head so that he faced her. No need to fight it and possibly end up with a dislocated jaw as a result of her super-strength.

"I know you know that," she said, her blue eyes searching his. "So why is this bothering you so much?"

Oliver chuckled, briefly. "You said, before, that now you knew what it was like to hate yourself."

Kara thought back to that moment, when they all were collared and chained, prisoners of the Earth-X versions of themselves. "I remember."

"Overgirl was nothing like you," Oliver said, half of his concentration on his memories of their Earth-X counterparts. "She looked like you, but she lacked your heart, your compassion. But the other me, the Dark Arrow…"

"Was nothing like you," Kara finished, and her tone was certain.

"Wasn't he?" Oliver asked. "We looked alike, we thought alike, we loved alike… neither of us could sacrifice you for the mission. And because of that, innocent people died."

"Oliver." Now she turned his body fully to hers, cradled him in her arms. "You're not him, not in any way that matters. You don't have the same priorities he did, and you won't make the same decisions he would have."

Oliver blew out a breath. "I already did. I saved you - her - you, and because of that…"

"So…" Kara let the word drag out for a moment. "You're angry with yourself that you _didn't_ kill someone?"

That surprised a laugh from him, and Oliver looked down at her. "When you put it that way, it sounds horrible."

"No," Kara objected. "It sounds like you want to save everyone - or at least give everyone a chance to be saved."

"You have a way of painting me in the best light possible."

"Because you're so good at the dark."

"And not pulling any punches," Oliver muttered, knowing she'd hear.

"Would you want me to?" There was a teasing note in her voice, and he could only shake his head, smiling.

Then she sobered. "You need to pay your respects to Mrs. Stein and the rest of his family. Not beat yourself up, not prostrate yourself and beg for their forgiveness - just pay your respects."

Oliver nodded an acknowledgment before looking once again toward the gravesite. He blinked when he saw that the mourners were already walking away - how had he not realized how long they'd been here?

He'd read up on Jewish funerary customs, and knew that the family would be gathering for a meal - one he wouldn't intrude on - before sitting _shiva_ for a week.

"Tomorrow," he said. "I'll visit tomorrow."

When Oliver knocked on the Steins' door the next day, he wasn't surprised to see Caitlin Snow on the other side.

"Oliver?"

"Caitlin. I've come to pay my respects. May I come in?"

"Of course." She stepped aside. "I think Clarissa's in the kitchen, but Lily's in the living room."

"Thank you." Oliver made his way past her, through the double handful of people who were also visiting, and into the living room.

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised to see Felicity sitting with the woman he recognized as Martin Stein's daughter Lily and a handful of other women.

He supposed he should be even less surprised that some sixth sense apparently told her he'd arrived, because he'd barely stepped into the living room before she looked up from her conversation and met his gaze.

Then she leaned toward Lily and said something Oliver couldn't hear. A moment later, Lily looked up and a surprised expression flitted across her face. Then she was rising to her feet and crossing to him.

"Mr. Queen," she said. "I didn't know you knew my father."

"I didn't know him well," Oliver said, then debated how much more to say.

While he was thinking, Lily said, "Come, my mother will want to thank you for coming, too."

Oliver followed her toward, he assumed, the kitchen, but glared over her shoulder at Felicity, who just smiled and rose to follow them.

He understood why Felicity had followed - and why Caitlin had joined them, as well - a moment later when he found himself alone in the kitchen with Clarissa and Lily Stein.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," he told them. "Martin Stein was a good man."

"How did you know Martin?" Clarissa asked, her brow furrowed.

Admitting the truth wasn't easy, even now, but Oliver made himself say, "It was my great honor to fight beside him."

Clarissa and Lily exchanged startled glances, and for a moment they simply stood silently. Finally, Clarissa said, "I'm sure he would have told us if he'd fought beside you, Mr. Queen."

Oliver ducked his head. "He might have mentioned green leather and a bow and arrows."

It really wasn't that oblique an explanation, and he wasn't surprised when they caught on immediately.

"Oh." Clarissa swallowed. Lily started, but said nothing even as she stared at him with wide eyes.

"I know I only saw part of the man he was," Oliver said when the silence stretched too long, "but I was proud to stand beside him. The world is a poorer place without him."

Both women nodded, and Oliver wondered what else he should say - if anything. He had no funny stories, no quiet memories to share with them, just stories of battles fought and won, lives saved and lost.

"Mr. Queen -" Clarissa said just as the silence lingered too long.

"Oliver," he corrected.

"Were you there?" It was the last question he'd expected her to ask, and he knew where _there_ was instantly.

"I was."

Clarissa nodded, and took a breath before straightening and looking him in the eyes. He'd faced down Ra's al Ghul, Damien Darhk, Dominators, even an evil version of himself, but in this moment, the middle-aged woman before him seemed as fierce as all of them combined.

"Will you tell us what happened?" she asked, and he'd thought he'd been ready for anything, but the question surprised him.

She must have read his surprise as refusal because she continued, "Please. Jefferson would only say that he was hurt in a fight."

"We want to know," Lily added. "Please."

Oliver glanced toward the door, relieved when he saw Felicity and Caitlin keeping watch, guarding them from intruders who shouldn't hear what he was about to say. He nodded to them, then glanced down, away from all of the eyes on him, gathering his thoughts.

Then he met Clarissa's and Lily's gazes in turn, and began to speak.

"We were trapped on a parallel Earth, one where the Nazis won World War Two. We had to fight our way to the portal that would bring us home so we could stop their invasion of this Earth."

He told them everything, not going into detail, but not leaving anything out, either. By the time he'd finished, both women had tears running down their cheeks and clung to each other.

Oliver's own eyes were damp when he concluded, "We brought him to the _Waverider_ , but even Gideon couldn't save him. He chose to sever himself from Jax so that Jax wouldn't die with him."

Long moments passed before any of them could speak again, and Oliver was surprised when Lily hugged him.

"Thank you," she said as his arms came up to offer what comfort he could. "Thank you for remembering him."

"I'll never forget him," Oliver assured her. "None of us will."

Then Clarissa hugged him, still apparently too choked up to speak, and Oliver excused himself so they could absorb what he'd told them and pull themselves together somewhat before facing the rest of their visitors.

"What did you tell them?" Felicity asked when Oliver stepped from the kitchen into the living room. He wouldn't say that she and Caitlin had ambushed him, but only because he'd known they would.

"The truth," he answered, and he was pleasantly surprised when she nodded an acknowledgment.

"Jax tried," Caitlin added. "But the hurt's too close for him just now."

"I understand," Oliver said, and then he made a decision he hadn't realized he'd been considering. "Can we talk for a minute?"

Felicity blinked, stared at him for a few seconds, then turned to Caitlin. "He wants to talk. Married life has been good for him."

"Funny," Oliver observed, then nodded toward an empty corner away from the crush of mourners.

"I need your help," Oliver said, making sure to include Caitlin in the request.

"With what?" Caitlin asked, even as Felicity said, "How can we help?"

"You," Oliver nodded at Caitlin, "know the family well. And you," he smiled at Felicity, "are better with people than I'll ever be." Then he sobered. "Between the two of you, you can find out the family's situation."

"They're grieving," Caitlin pointed out, a hint of snap in her tone. But Felicity was frowning.

"Situation?" She repeated, sounding more thoughtful than upset. "You mean financial?"

"Financial, sure," Oliver agreed. "But anything else. I didn't know the professor well, but he was one of us, and we stand by our own."

Caitlin appeared to soften at his final words, and Oliver appreciated her loyalty to the professor's family. "Well…"

"What?" Oliver prompted gently.

"Little Ronnie." Caitlin nodded to where a dark-haired man stood with a baby in his arms.

"What about him?" Oliver asked.

"College," Felicity said, and rolled her eyes when Oliver just stared at her.

"It would be good if he could graduate without debt," Caitlin put in diplomatically.

That was enough of a hint that Oliver got it. "I'll get a trust fund set up for him. Send me all the pertinent information when you get a chance."

"I will," Caitlin promised. Then, "Thanks, Oliver."

Oliver wanted to shrug her thanks away - he was only doing what was right, after all - but Kara's words echoed in his mind: _Don't beat yourself up, don't prostrate yourself and beg for their forgiveness - just pay your respects._

He suspected in this moment, she'd say, _Just accept their thanks._ So he did, with a smile and a nod.

Some minutes later, Oliver escaped the house and breathed in as deeply as if he were awakening from a nap. It wasn't the grief in the house that had oppressed him so much as the curiosity: _Who's that? That's the mayor of Star City. What's he doing here? Did he know Martin?_

Most of the questions weren't spoken aloud - at least, not loud enough that he could hear them - but Oliver understood them nonetheless. The answers would draw too near to secrets that needed to be kept for his comfort, and he kept up a bland persona, nodding and smiling as if he were at a press event, as he made his way to the door.

Now outside, all he could think of was the fastest way back to Star City and the duties he'd put aside in order to stop Nazis from another Earth.

So much for aliens being weirdest thing he'd ever encounter.

He reached for his cell phone to call a cab to the train station, but a warm hand on his stopped the movement. He turned to see Kara standing there.

"Faster if we fly," she murmured.

"Colder if we fly," he countered with a grin.

Kara raised a teasing eyebrow. "Are you saying you don't want to be wrapped in my arms for the flight home?"

"I'm saying that a train ride allows for more time enjoying your company."

Kara appeared to consider that for a moment before she nodded, once. "You make an excellent point." Then her expression sobered. "How are you?"

"Better," he admitted. "You were right."

"I'm glad," she said simply, and hugged him.

He held her close, and when he released her, he said, "How about a compromise?"

"What kind of compromise, and on what?"

"You can fly us home after we have dinner."

"That," Kara declared, "is a good compromise."

"Thank you," Oliver said formally, before tucking her hand into his elbow and turning them toward the end of the street.

They walked in a silence that was comfortable but not complacent until they came to a busy street on the edge of the subdivision.

"I don't see a cab for a couple of miles," Kara said. "We'll have to call for one."

"In a minute." Oliver turned to face her, unmindful of the cars passing from either direction, but he did remember to pull her out of the line of most foot traffic.

"Oliver?"

He took her hand in his, before he met her gaze. "I don't say it often enough, Kara. I'm a better person because of you."

"You were a good man before me, Oliver," she protested.

"I didn't say _good_ , I said _better_. Thank you - for coming into my life, for loving me, for helping me see better ways than I used to."

"Oliver -" Kara shook her head, but he cut off anything else she might have said with a kiss.

It wasn't much of a kiss, not by their usual standards, but then again, they were in public, and Kara had a habit of forgetting about gravity when he kissed her.

Oliver pulled back after a few seconds. "Whatever you say won't change how I feel, so you might as well just accept it."

Kara straightened her shoulders. "I was going to say that I'm glad you're in my life, too."

Oliver smiled at her, and though he'd regret his actions during the Evil Nazi Crisis and mourn Martin Stein until he joined Stein in death, for this moment, he felt a little lighter.


End file.
